This Is Not My Beautiful House

To tell the truth, I'm afraid to go out the front door. Every time I put the man of the house in charge so I can go to the grocery store, this is what I come back to -- not just in the bedrooms, mind you, but the living room, dining room, and kitchen, too. How anyone can manage to make a mess like that in less than an hour is one thing, how often this happens in a single day is another.

"What happened?!?" I ask, trying to keep the shrillness out of my voice, "It looks like a bomb went off in here..." By way of reply, man of the house counters with his own question: "How much would you pay for a good kitchen knife?" Huh? It's then that I notice, my arms laden with grocery bags, that he's perusing $500 handforged, beadblasted chefs knives on eBay. This is really funny, because man of the house only knows how to make eggs. But it doesn't explain the mess (or, maybe it does...).

Over time, I've learned that I'll never get an explanation as to how this happens. I keep asking, just for fun, to see if I'll ever get anything that resembles an actual answer. I do know that it will probably take me two hours to clean it all up, but only if everyone else is gone. Luckily, all the kids are out for the afternoon on a playdate roundup. Everything looks spotless when they get home.

Now for the confession: the featured photo was taken about half an hour after they returned to the domicile. This disaster of a mess was perpetrated right under my nose! I think I might as well give up...

The Aftermath

Our home is generally pretty tidy, but on a weekend with a full house it’s another matter altogether. I always start our days of togetherness trying to clean up after everyone as I go, but I’m outnumbered and they all seem dedicated to the task of trashing the place (or at least burying it under as large a pile of stuff as possible). My adorable weapons of mass destruction, they are.

Somewhere around 4pm on Sunday afternoon, my eyes simply glaze over and I no longer see what’s going on around me. This is when Claire and Wynham usually kick into high gear in an attempt to “outmessify” each other and gain my attention. Yesterday, this was the moment one of our neighbors decided to drop by; I’m pretty sure I didn’t even say hello to him, I was so dazed.

On Sunday nights, I always go to bed hoping that I’ll wake up in one of those fairy tales where the Brownies come and clean everything up while the household is fast asleep. Mother Goose never seems to get the memo.

When the garbage trucks go by at 5:15am today, I stumble out of bed and into the darkness, ready or not to face what I call the Monday Morning Aftermath. It’s not pretty. It will be hours before the order is restored. But as Claire would say, that’s the way life goes. Now if you'll excuse me, I’ve got some cleaning up to do...